


Thaw

by alatariel_gildaen



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - British, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alatariel_gildaen/pseuds/alatariel_gildaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The freezing wintery weather is a perfect reflection of Katniss' life and her attitiude to everyone around her. That is, until a handsome blond man enters the bar where she works, and begins to thaw her heart.</p>
<p>Written originally for S2SL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thaw

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks and Kudos have to go to the wonderful Streetlightlove for setting up S2SL in the first place. It was a fantastic collection of stories, and I'm really very honoured to have been a part of it.
> 
> And thanks again to my beta Court for such incredible and tireless work for this fandom.

The November air was cold and chilly, and Katniss couldn't help but curse silently every time a customer opened the door, entering the bar and bringing with them a gust of biting wind. Thankfully, The Coalminer wasn't one of the most popular pubs in Greenwich, so those freezing winds were few and far between, but it also enabled her to cultivate personal feelings of animosity towards each and every patron.

Clutching tightly to the portable hand warmers that she kept in her pocket, she glared as one of the customers approached the bar. Katniss barely acknowledged the middle-aged gent as he ordered a Guinness for himself and a glass of dry white wine for his companion. Guinness. Of all the bloody draughts he could order, he had to get the one that would take the longest to pour….

"Seven-eighty," she said in a monotone voice, holding her frozen hand out towards the customer and taking the ten-pound note from him. Worried that he was about to strike up a conversation about the rising prices of alcohol, like every other punter inn recent times, she shoved his change into his hand, thrust her hands back into her pockets, and walked up the length of the bar.

"You know, Sweetheart," came the dry tone of her boss, Haymitch, "if you were slightly warmer in your approach, maybe we'd have more customers."

"And maybe if you stuck the heating on once in a while instead of drinking your profits away, I'd be able to act warmer."

"Heating is on, Sweetheart," he smirked, swirling the dregs of a shot of whisky around the bottom of a glass tumbler. "No-one else seems to be complaining. It's you that's cold. I know it's hard for you, but try putting two and two together."

She huffed impatiently and leant against the top of the bar, bringing the portable hand warmer up to her face and pressing it against the tip of her nose. The rush of warmth allowed her to breathe a small sigh of relief, although her respite from the cold was only temporary. At that moment the door opened once again, and Katniss narrowed her eyes at the culprit. A man in his late twenties or early thirties, bundled up against the winter weather, stood in the doorway. A black beanie hat covered his hair and a thick scarf covered half his face, leaving only his blue eyes visible. He paused in the doorway and looked around the bar at the few patrons, one hand still on the open door.

"Can you make your mind up if you're coming or going?" Katniss called out to him. "You're letting what little warmth there is out."

The man pulled the scarf down away from his face and pulled the beanie hat from his head, revealing the mess of blond curls underneath. "Sorry," he muttered, pulling the door closed behind him. Katniss watched him closely as he crossed the room. He appeared to be studying the faces of all the other patrons, and a look of disappointment and apprehension crossed his features as he reached the other side of the bar.

The blond man shrugged his oversized coat from his shoulders and hung it over the back of a chair, taking a seat facing towards the door. Katniss watched him place his hands in his lap, his right leg twitching nervously up and down, as all the while he kept his eyes on the door to outside.

After a few minutes of watching the man, Katniss called over to him, "Are you going to order a drink, or are you just going to sit there all night?"

"Sorry," he muttered once again, and Katniss rolled her eyes as he stood back up, eyes still transfixed on the door, and tripping a little over his own feet as he walked towards the bar.

"Be nice," Haymitch said in a low voice as the man approached her.

Nice? Fine. She could do 'nice.' "What will it be?" she said in a sing-song voice, a saccharine smile plastered over her face.

"Um. What would you recommend?" asked the man, looking along the bar at the various beers and ciders on tap. Haymitch insisted that his pub didn't sell 'fizzy, insipid lagers and ciders,' as he called them, and he prided himself on being a member of the Campaign for Real Ale. As a result, most patrons hadn't heard of the majority of drinks he sold. This man was clearly one such customer.

"I'd recommend you order a drink," said Katniss, maintaining the same sickeningly sweet voice, ignoring the impatient tutting coming from her boss.

"Ok," he replied, and Katniss noted that his eyes still kept flicking towards the door. He was clearly too distracted to have noticed her jibes. "Um, a pint of Westons, please."

"Wyld Wood, Stowford Press or Old Rosie?"

"I don't mind. Anything."

She rolled her eyes again and poured the man a pint of Wyld Wood, the most expensive of the three ciders. "Three-ninety," she said, holding her hand out towards the man. He seemed momentarily to have forgotten that he would need to pay, and the request took him by surprise as he fumbled with his wallet and withdrew a rather crumpled looking five-pound note, which Katniss snatched away from him.

"Thank you," he said as she returned his change to him, before he picked up his pint and wandered back to his seat and maintained his vigil of watching the door.

Through the evening, other customers came and went, but Katniss couldn't help but maintain half an eye on the young blond man sitting alone. Every time the door opened, while Katniss' annoyance at the cold increased, the man would look up from his drink, a hopeful and expectant look plastered across his face. And each time, he would return to his pint, his eyes downcast, disappointment emanating from him in waves. He nursed his first drink for over an hour before purchasing a second. Halfway through his second pint, Katniss noticed that the nervous twitch in his leg had finally ceased. He had taken out a pen and was doodling on the back of a card beer mat, and now each time a new patron entered the bar, he barely even lifted his eyes to the door.

At half-past nine, Katniss noticed the young man take a look at his watch, then sigh deeply. He downed the remainder of his pint, pushed the beer mat that he had been drawing on away from him, and climbed rather unsteadily to his feet. Eyes downcast towards his feet, he wrapped the thick scarf around his neck, covered his curls with the black beanie hat, and redressed in the over-sized coat. He glanced up briefly towards the bar, where Katniss and Haymitch were both polishing glasses. "Thank you," he muttered to them both before heading back out into the cold. As he opened the door, Katniss winced at how the weather had worsened. Earlier it had been just cold winds blowing. Now it was pouring rain as well, and she could well imagine how each droplet of water would feel like a knife as it landed against the skin. She didn't envy the young man heading out into the weather at all and hoped with all her might that, at the very least, the rain would stop before her shift ended.

"Stood up, do you think?" Haymitch's voice cut across her.

"Huh?"

"The blond kid. Stood up?"

"Dunno."

"Really, Sweetheart? You don't know?"

"Why would I?" she demanded.

A familiar smirk appeared on her boss's face. "You were the one who couldn't tear your eyes from him all night."

"Fuck off, old man," she said as she came round to the other side of the bar, wash cloth in hand, ready to wipe down the table recently vacated by the young blond man. She picked up his empty pint glass, as well as the beer mat she had watched him doodle over, and gave the table a quick wipe. Just as she was about to set the beer mat back on the table, she noticed what he had drawn. There was no way it could be described as a doodle. The young woman he had sketched looked as though she could be a model. Long, flowing blond hair, and huge doe-like eyes leapt off the card of the bar mat. The perfectly plump lips were slightly parted, and even in black and white, Katniss could tell that he had drawn a slight flush to the cheeks of this stunning woman. She felt a stab of annoyance at the drawing and for a moment, felt an overwhelming urge to tear the mat in half, but knowing Haymitch was watching her, she resisted the urge. On her return to the bar she carelessly tossed the mat towards him and said, "Looks like you were right."

His eyes widened momentarily as he picked up the mat. "Pretty girl," he commented. "No wonder he looked so disheartened."

"Bit out of his league," she lied. "I'm not surprised she didn't show."

"Ouch. That's cold, even for you, Sweetheart."

She shrugged and leant her elbows on the bar top, clutching at herself for extra warmth. She was loathe to admit it, and she would never dare confess it to Haymitch, but there was something about the blond man that had caught her eye, although she couldn't quite place her finger on the specifics.

For the remainder of her shift, Katniss found that her thoughts kept straying to the young man, seemingly stood up by his flawless date. Was this supposed to be their first time meeting? If so, how had the meeting been organised? Was it a blind date, set up by a friend? Or was it more of a serious relationship? What was more important than meeting him? Why hadn't she contacted him to tell him that she wouldn't make it?

Annoyed by these persistent thoughts, Katniss tried desperately to shake them away, to focus on her current customers, but the more she tried to forget the young man, the more he seemed to lodge himself firmly in her mind.

Finally, with her shift over, Katniss wrapped herself up against the hellish wintery weather, bade Haymitch good night, and began the long trek home.

On opening the door to her flat, Katniss was met by a wall of freezing cold air. She swore under her breath, already knowing the reason. The flat's boiler had an electrical fault, and despite her constant complaints to the estate agents, nothing ever seemed to get permanently fixed. Snow & Associates – it seemed so bloody appropriate that such an agent would keep their tenants perpetually on the edge of hypothermia.

She filled the kettle and flicked it on, still wearing her coat, hat, scarf and gloves, and as soon as the water had boiled, she filled a hot water bottle and clutched it to her chest.

As quickly as she was able, she undressed and pulled on a pair of thick, fluffy, thermal pyjamas, and got under the covers of her bed. An involuntary yelp was torn from her; the bed was so cold that it was almost painful, and she held tightly to the hot water bottle, allowing it to slowly warm her.

She'd complain to the landlords again in the morning. This was no way to live.

As the bed grew closer to an acceptable temperature, her eyes slowly drifted closed, and immediately she was in a wide-open meadow, the sunlight pouring down on her face. She closed her eyes, basking in the sun's warm glow momentarily before realising she wasn't alone. Someone was here with her in this glorious meadow. She tried to catch his face, but with the sun behind him, he was silhouetted.

The rays of the sun reflected off his hair, illuminating a golden halo around his head as he walked towards her. Still she was unable to make out his face, but she wasn't concerned. Whoever he was, he made her feel safe, secure, and above all warm, as if it was his very presence causing the sun to beat down upon them.

Suddenly he was beside her, his lips were on hers, trailing down her neck, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Not that she wanted to. She was powerless in his embrace as his kisses trailed lower and lower. In an instant they were naked, lying together on the soft, warm grass, and his kisses had found her inner thighs. As soon as his tongue gently pressed into her centre, her back arched, and a wet warmth spread out inside her, starting at the apex between her thighs where it was most intense, and sent pleasurable shivers to her fingers and toes….

Katniss opened her eyes. She was in darkness and her digital radio told her that the time was 3:51 a.m. She was utterly breathless, and her flesh was sensitive…. She'd actually climaxed in her dream…. Rubbing her hands over her face for a moment, she tried to recall the specifics. Sex dreams weren't uncommon for her, especially considering how long she'd been single, but for her to actually reach orgasm from a dream…. That was rare.

The hot water bottle still hung on to some last vestiges of heat, and Katniss rolled over on to her side, pressing the bottle in to her belly. The warmth from her orgasm was spread from her fingertips right through to her toes, and she sighed contentedly, soon falling back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

\--------------------------

It took her by surprise when the young blond man made another appearance in The Coalminer a week later. He sat in the same place, facing towards the door. Like before, he carefully hung his coat over the back of the chair and nervously sat down before he seemed to remember to buy a drink.

"Hi," he said. His eyes kept flicking to the door, and Katniss found herself immediately becoming impatient with him. "Could I please have a pint of that cider I had before?"

"Which one?" she asked abruptly.

He looked along the line of bar taps. "I don't know," he replied, a shy smile uplifting the corners of his mouth. "You chose for me last time."

"Sorry. I don't remember," she lied. "You can't expect me to remember the orders of every single customer we've had."

"Sorry, of course. My bad," he said, abashed. "Well, you chose well before, I'm happy to let you choose again."

She grabbed a glass and quickly drew off a pint of Wyld Wood, accepting payment for the drink. The blond wandered back to his solitary table, constantly watching the door. This time he began to draw over the back of a beer mat almost immediately, and Katniss found herself wondering if he was drawing the same woman he had sketched previously.

For the next hour, she kept watch over him as he slowly sipped at his drink, all the while continuing to sketch. The same nervous look of apprehension mingled with hope crossed his face every time a new customer entered the bar, followed by obvious disappointment when it became apparent that his date hadn't shown up. She actually began to feel a level of pity for the young man and considered telling him to just give it up when his phone vibrated on the table in front of him. Eagerly, he snatched it up and read the message. As he read, his face slowly fell, while at the same time, his shoulders visibly crumpled.

With one last look around the bar, he pulled on his coat, hat, and scarf, and shuffled back outside into the wintery weather.

Before Haymitch had the chance to say anything, she went over to the young man's table, using the pretence of wiping down the surface and collecting his glass so that she could be the first to see his drawings again. There were two this time. The first was another portrait of the same gorgeous blond from before. The second made her stomach squirm uncomfortably, and she couldn't explain why. It was more of a self-portrait. In the image, the young man was hugging the woman, his face visible over her shoulder, sporting a look of happiness and contentment. He clearly hadn't been as careful with the shading in this one, as the woman's hair appeared to be somewhat darker. Katniss couldn't help but stare at the picture, and she suddenly longed to know more about him. Who was he? And who was she? Why did he deem her worthy of his affection when she had let him down so badly twice in a row?

She surreptitiously slipped the beer mat of his self-portrait into her pocket, while collecting his glass and the other mat. Returning to Haymitch, she said, "Same chick as before, by the looks of it. Two weeks running. I doubt they'll be lasting much longer."

"Lucky for you, eh, Sweetheart? Maybe you'll be in with a chance."

"What the hell are you on about?"

"You can't pretend you haven't spent the last hour ogling him, Sweetheart. You've been inattentive to the other customers even by your standards, and that's saying something."

"I just felt sorry for him, that's all."

Haymitch snorted, a loud rasping sound that set Katniss' teeth on edge. He held his empty glass under the whisky optic and drew off a double measure, adding two cubes of ice to the liquor, swirling it around before knocking half the drink back in one gulp. "Listen, if you're gonna lie, try and make it believable. Tell me you thought you recognised him from somewhere. Tell me you were trying to work out where he buys his clothes. Anything. Saying that you felt sorry for him doesn't cut it with me, Sweetheart. You never feel sorry for anyone."

She'd known and worked for Haymitch long enough to not take anything he said too much to heart, but that comment stung, as if she were somehow incapable of empathy.

"Fuck off," she muttered, and Haymitch chuckled to himself, as if her comment had somehow proven him correct. But his ribbing gave her cause to stop and think. She had spent the majority of the past hour watching the young man. But why? Despite what Haymitch claimed, she did feel a level of pity for the guy. But was there more to it than that? Something that Haymitch could see that she hadn't noticed yet herself?

She thought about the blond man. He was certainly handsome, there was no denying that. But was that really the reason she'd been keeping a watch over him all evening? She thought about the perfect woman that he had been drawing, and a pang of jealousy hit her in the stomach. Even though this woman had probably all but ruined her own chances at a shot with the man, it pained Katniss to think of him pining after her.

That night, the blond guy from the pub filled her dreams with wet kisses and passionate embraces. For most of the night, the two of them were together, alternating between her being on her hands and knees, with him fucking her roughly from behind, to her looking down in to those deep, blue eyes as she rode him over and over again.

She woke up, almost entirely breathless, and in the darkness she stared at her ceiling, wondering if there was any way to make her dreams a reality. If only he would just open his eyes to her, she could help him forget the woman who seemed hell-bent on hurting him, anyway.

She tried to shake the thoughts away. The chances of him coming back were slim, at best. There was no point getting hung-up over a guy she had only seen twice, and whose name she didn't even know. She rolled over in bed and tried to push him from her mind, but the more she tried to forget him, the more his face invaded her thoughts. Instead, with a soft exhalation of breath, she allowed the images from her dreams to replay over and over, until the sun began to rise, bathing her room in a cool, grey light, and she forced herself up and out of bed.

\--------------------------------

For the third week in a row he turned up at the pub on a Friday night, looking nervous. As soon as he appeared, Katniss felt her cheeks burn bright red as she pictured how they had been together in her dreams. As he approached the bar and ordered his now usual pint of Wyld Wood, she could barely look him in the eyes, convinced that if they made eye contact he would be able to see the compromising positions her subconscious had put them both in.

After paying for his pint and taking himself off to his usual table to watch for his date, Haymitch leant in towards Katniss and said, "How about a little wager?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Haymitch withdrew a ten-pound note and slapped it down on the bar in front of her. "Tenner says he'll give up within the hour."

Her stomach dropped at how readily Haymitch was willing to bet on the young man's fate, but she didn't want to lose face in front of him. "You're on," she said, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a ten-pound note of her own.

Haymitch picked the two notes up and placed them next to the till before walking to the other end of the bar to serve.

The blond began his habit of sketching on the back of a beer mat, and Katniss had to fight the urge to go over and watch. After he had been sat waiting for around ten minutes, a young couple vacated the table next to him, and Katniss immediately leapt on the opportunity to go and have a look at what he was doing. By clearing and wiping down the nearby table, she had the perfect ready-made excuse to secretly watch his progress.

He was lost in his own world as she approached, and as before, he was drawing the perfect blond woman. His pen seemed to be moving of its own volition; it moved so fast and so fluidly that it seemed impossible that a man, and not a machine, was making it move.

He seemed to become aware that she was staring, and he looked up momentarily from his drawing. She quickly turned back to the nearby table, hurriedly picking up the glasses and holding them in one hand, before wiping down the table and making her way back to the bar. When she turned back to look at the blond, he was once again fully occupied by his own sketching. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief; it didn't appear that he had noticed her watching him.

Just like on his two previous visits, every time a patron entered the bar, he would look up expectantly, then return to his own thoughts, looking thoroughly disheartened.

This time he seemed to grow impatient far sooner, and before long, he had finished his pint. He checked his watch, sighed, and pushed his curls out of his eyes before standing up and redressing in his hat, scarf and coat. Katniss felt her heart break a little on his behalf at the look in his eyes; he was clearly expecting disappointment but that obviously didn't stop it hurting.

A hot breath, followed immediately by the sharp stench of alcohol, hit her as Haymitch leant in towards her. "Fifty-two minutes. I win." She could hear him chuckling to himself as he snatched up his winnings, but she didn't care about losing the bet. She felt so sorry for the guy, and a little worried that she probably wouldn't see him again. Being stood up once was bad enough, but three times? There was no way he'd be giving this girl another chance, no matter how beautiful she was. And that meant that there was little chance of his returning to this particular pub; it wasn't exactly a popular night spot, after all.

Without looking up towards the bar, he strode straight for the exit, pausing when he opened the door and saw how terrible the weather had become. The rain was coming down in sheets, and a brutal wind howled down the narrow streets. In comparison, the Coalminer was positively welcoming. The young man seemed to be debating with himself over something, and Katniss resisted the urge to moan about him letting all the heat out of the bar, lest it drive him away. She watched with baited breath as he made up his mind and returned to the bar.

Shrugging off his coat, he took a stool next to the bar, and Katniss immediately went over to serve him. "I think you made a wise decision," she said.

"Yeah. I don't fancy that at all."

"Another pint of the same?"

"Please."

She took down a clean pint glass and watched him from the corner of her eye as she drew off the cider. "Stood up again?" she asked him.

"Ignore her," Haymitch called over her shoulder. "Sweetheart here as all the sensitivity of a charging rhino."

"Fuck you, old man."

"And the charisma of a dead slug."

Katniss placed the pint of cider in front of the young man and couldn't help but notice his flushed cheeks, and how the tips of his ears had turned a similar dark shade of pink. "Sorry," she said, as he handed his money over. "You know, I hear that us bar staff are supposed to be pretty good listeners, so if you wanted to talk about it…."

"Might just take you up on that," he replied. He took one last look towards the door and sighed before returning to his pint and taking a hefty swig. "I'm Peeta," he said, extending his hand out towards Katniss.

"Katniss," she replied, taking his hand firmly in her own and shaking it once. For a moment she was distracted by the warmth coming from him, and felt embarrassed by her own frozen appendage, stuffing her hands back inside her pockets and grasping the hand warmers. "So… date went wrong, huh?"

"Could say that. I'm starting to wonder if we'll ever meet."

"The woman you've been drawing?"

His eyes widened at her words, "How'd you…?"

"On the beer mats?"

"Oh." It was as if he hadn't realised what he was doing as he drew her. As if the act of drawing was such an automatic thing for him that he didn't know that he'd left images of the knockout blonde over the back of several bar mats. "Yeah," he said at last. "But as I said, I don't know if we're ever going to meet at this rate."

"Blind date?"

"No. Online," he admitted, and his cheeks flushed even darker. "I know. Pretty sad, huh?"

"A lot of people do it," she said, noncommittally. "So who is this chick?"

Peeta reached into his back pocket and withdrew an iPhone. A few moments later, he showed her the screen, and Katniss immediately recognised the woman as being the same one she'd seen in pen and ink form on the back of several beer mats. "We met on Lovestruck dot com. I've had a profile for a while now, and she's the only person I've really communicated with. I mean, I've messaged people, but they've never got back in contact. But she got in touch with me, rather than the other way around, so I thought I was on to something."

Katniss looked at the screen closer and caught the woman's name on her profile. "Glimmer?" she snorted in disbelief.

"She's an actress. Said that was her stage name."

"Glimmer?" she repeated. "Probably a fake profile."

Peeta took the phone back and read over the woman's profile, his eyebrows knitted together in consternation. "Do you think so?"

"I think it's a pretty safe bet," she said, and immediately felt guilty because of how crestfallen he looked. Ignoring her nagging conscience, she continued, "Did you notice anyone watching you come in here? When people set someone up as a prank, they're likely to be around, watching."

He shook his head sadly. "Not that I noticed. I mean, I was too busy being nervous about meeting her to be aware of anyone else."

Another patron came up to the bar at that moment, and Haymitch was busy changing a barrel, so Katniss was forced away from the conversation to serve. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Peeta studying his phone once again. Internally she shook her head at him; anyone could see that the profile had to be a fake. The woman in the picture was far too perfect to be real; most likely she had been airbrushed beyond all recognition. And yet he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. She began to wonder what could have driven him to the murky world of online dating; he didn't look like the sad and lonely stereotype she had in her mind's eye.

Wasting no time, as soon as she had finished serving, she returned to Peeta and asked him, "Why online dating, then? Why don't you just, you know, meet someone?"

He stared at her blankly for a few moments, but didn't appear affronted. "I don't really get the opportunity to meet people. I'm self-employed. I work alone. My business is mostly run online. So opportunities to meet people are pretty thin."

"So, what's your business then?"

"A bit of this and that. My main bread and butter is the graphic design stuff; I've got a few clients that I work for freelance, and to supplement it, I run a little online art shop from home. You know, original artworks, that kind of thing. But mostly I sell prints of the originals. I'd love to get a stall at Greenwich Market some time though, drum up a little extra business. But there's a massive waiting list for a stall, and applying this side of Christmas is a bit of a waste of time."

She nodded as she processed the information. "Well, if your beer mats are anything to go by, I'm sure you could make it a success."

"Thanks," he said, as a shy smile tugged at his mouth. Katniss felt her own features melt into a similar smile before she shook it away. It felt like she'd already had more of a conversation with this guy than she had with any other single customer. "And it would certainly help with the whole 'meeting people' problem I seem to have."

"Got to be better than online dating, at least."

Peeta chuckled and raised his glass to his lips. "I'll drink to that. At least I can tell my mum, 'I told you so.'"

"Your mum?" Katniss snorted.

"It was her idea." He put on a high-pitched, overly stern voice and Katniss couldn't help but laugh even louder. "' _Now, Peeta, your brothers have settled down. Married with children, and look how happy they are. And let's face it, you're not getting any younger._ ' Jesus. Just because I'm thirty and not married, she thinks my life is over."

"And is it?"

"Definitely not. I feel like it's barely even begun."

Another couple of patrons came up to the bar, and Haymitch still had yet to return. "Excuse me," she said, rolling her eyes in the direction of the customers.

"Go ahead, please don't let me get in your way."

As she poured the round of pints, she couldn't help but keep an eye on Peeta. In her absence, he'd pulled another beer mat towards him and was already sketching on the back of it. She took her time serving, allowing herself to observe him for longer.

His face was a picture of concentration as he stared intently at the small piece of card on the bar top. Every now and then, he'd sit up straighter and run a hand through his unruly, tousled hair before leaning in closer to work on some detail.

She studied his handsome face and was drawn in by his strong jawline and the smattering of stubble, his golden eyelashes that caught the light, but most of all she was mesmerised by his deep, clear blue eyes. There was a gentle kindness to them that she had rarely seen on anyone else.

When she finished serving, she returned to him and he quickly turned over the beer mat, hiding what he had been drawing from her view. A crimson flush coloured his cheeks, which Katniss pretended not to notice.

"So," she said, "I can't say I've seen you around before. Do you live locally?"

"Kind of," he answered, and the flush had now returned to the tips of his ears as well.

"Kind of?"

"Woolwich," he admitted. "I hate it. I'd love to move to Greenwich or Blackheath but… Woolwich is a lot cheaper if you're living alone."

"Tell me about it," Katniss replied. "I live in a shithole and still spend pretty much every last penny on my rent. Maybe I should consider Woolwich instead."

"Don't," he said firmly. "Don't even joke about it. It's like some kind of hellish black hole—impossible to escape once you're inside."

She couldn't help but laugh at his easy humour. "I'll bear that in mind," she chuckled.

For the remainder of the evening, their banter was natural, their conversation completely unforced, and Katniss found herself getting more and more annoyed with every interruption from a customer. Peeta seemed to be a genuinely decent guy— an almost non-existent rarity, especially in South-East London. They spoke at length on all manner of topics, from their favourite music and films, to political opinions, to hopes and aspirations for the future.

Whenever a customer interrupted their conversation, Peeta would return to his sketching on the back of the bar mat, hiding it from Katniss' sight as soon as she returned.

Just before eleven o'clock, Peeta checked his watch, a look of surprise raising his eyebrows. He apologised that he had kept her away from other customers all evening, and explained that he had an early start in the morning. He excused himself and wished her a goodnight.

A slight sinking feeling settled over her stomach as she watched him dress in his coat, hat and scarf. He briefly waved to her before stepping out into the cold of the night, a half-smile turning the corners of his mouth upwards. For once, Katniss didn't even notice the rush of frozen air borne inside by the bitter winds as she returned the wave and half-smile. Her mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Peeta. Something inside was nagging at her conscience.

As Katniss began to wipe down the main bar top, she noticed the card beer mat that Peeta had been sketching on – the one he had tried to keep hidden from her. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat as her own smiling visage leapt off the back of the card.

And all at once, the nagging feeling became as clear as day. Peeta wasn't coming back. He wasn't going to fall for the same prank again. And Katniss had no means of contacting him. Seeing her own face drawn by his hand clearly put her own feelings into black and white. She liked him. She really liked him. More than any other guy she had met since moving to London. And now that she had finally come to that realisation, she had no means of contacting him.

When her shift ended, her feet bore her home automatically, as her mind was filled with what she had never had to begin with, but had potentially lost. Lying in bed, she clutched on to her hot water bottle for comfort and heat, but couldn't relax enough to drift off to sleep. All she could think about was Peeta. She met so many people and couldn't give most of them the time of day, but there was something about him….something….intriguing. A warmth, both literal and figurative, that she wanted a part of.

The idea that she may not see him again hit her hard. She cursed herself for not getting his telephone number, or at the very least finding out the name of his graphic design business. If she had that snippet of information, he'd probably be easy to track down online.

For a moment, she considered setting up a Lovestruck profile, just to send him a message, just so that he had some minor clue as to how she felt about him. She snorted at how much of a stalker that would make her appear, but allowed the fantasy to play unchecked in her mind.

He would receive her message, and he'd call her straight away… and when they met he would immediately press those lips against hers. She wondered how he would taste, whether his kisses would be gentle or demanding, whether he would take the lead or follow hers.

And most of all, she wondered what he looked like underneath his clothes. She pictured a light covering of hair over his chest, a darker trail under his belly button leading down towards a thick, hard cock…

She sucked two fingers into her mouth before dipping them under the waistband of her pyjamas. Usually she would begin her self-exploration slowly, teasing herself to climax, but there was no time for that now. As she thought about Peeta, naked, touching her, she needed release, and she needed it immediately. She ran her digits along her folds, quickly circling her swollen clit, and imagining Peeta's lips and tongue, kissing, licking, sucking…..

It took just a few moments of her own touch for the pressure coiling inside her to reach its peak, and she sent herself spiralling into blissful oblivion.

A warm, deep sleep soon washed over her, and she dreamed of blue eyes and strong arms offering comforting hugs.

\-----------------------------------------

Seeing Peeta walk into the pub the following week took her entirely by surprise, and her heart skipped several beats at the unexpected sight of him. It was much later than his usual arrival time, and snow had settled over his shoulders, and she couldn't help but shiver on his behalf at the idea of the freezing cold.

"Glimmer message you again?" she asked him as soon as he walked up to the bar, trying to maintain a cool exterior while inside her heart was racing.

"Nope," he replied. "No, I think I learned my lesson there."

"So what are you doing here?"

He shrugged his shoulders as he took his coat off. Instead of heading towards the table he had occupied for his last three visits, he laid his coat down over a stool next to the bar, and took a seat at an adjacent stool. "I just fancied a drink."

"Wyld Wood?" she asked him.

"You remembered," he smiled at her.

"Well, you are practically a regular now."

"Only 'practically?'"

"That's right. One more visit and I can chalk you up as a regular, but not before."

After paying for his drink, he sat on one of the barside stools and took an appreciative sip. At that moment, a group of four professionals in smart suits came up to the bar and distracted her from talking to Peeta. As she and Haymitch served the four gents, she caught Haymitch's quiet comment, dripping with sarcasm. "No date tonight, huh? I wonder, what could have possibly brought him back here?"

She chose not to answer, but his insinuations didn't stop her heart leaping to her throat. Whilst pouring the first of two pints of Guinness, her attention remained firmly on Peeta. She noticed that the nervous twitch, which she originally observed on his first visit to the Coalminer, had returned to his leg. After every swig of his pint, he was taking a large, deep breath, letting it out slowly, running his hand over his face and nervously ruffling the back of his hair.

Finishing up with the suited office workers, Katniss returned to Peeta. "So, no more internet dating then do you think?"

"Hopefully not," he replied. "I can't rule it out, but… well…. I met someone."

Katniss felt the bottom of her stomach drop out. It took all of her self-control not to grab at the drip trays under the bar taps and hurl the contents at him. But it wasn't his fault. He was utterly clueless as to her developing feelings. And if she'd missed the boat, well, she had no one to blame but herself.

"I see," she said, and despite trying to keep her feelings hidden, ice edged her voice. "Did you meet her online?"

"No," he said, and that shy smile of his returned. "Although, I guess in a way, I have that website to thank for meeting her."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"What's she like?"

"Beautiful. Really beautiful. But she doesn't know it. And she's so down-to-earth. A great listener."

"Well," snapped Katniss, "she sounds delightful."

"She really is," chuckled Peeta, and his response caused a pang of jealousy to shoot through her. She snatched up a glass and began to polish it furiously. "Although…. she's utterly clueless as to when someone's trying to chat her up."

"I see," she bit out. "Well, I'm happy for you. I just hope she doesn't leave you hanging like the last one did."

"I don't think she will," he smirked.

His reaction incensed her further, and she had no idea why. He didn't owe her anything. He had made her no promises. The only interactions they'd had outside of the customer/bar staff relationship had been in her fantasies. And he was a really great guy; he deserved this shot at happiness. She'd just hoped that his happiness would somehow involve her too. "You never know with girls," she shrugged, her tone cool as ice. "So, when are you seeing her?"

He took another deep, calming breath, shaking his head slightly, a small smile playing about his lips, before looking up and locking eyes with her. "Right now, Katniss."

She almost forgot about the pint mug that she was polishing, very nearly dropping the glass. He looked so earnest, so full of hope, and a little nervous too. And that was when it finally struck her. He was talking about her.

Her breath was snatched away from her as she set the glass back down. "Me?" He nodded in response but stayed silent, and Katniss watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed his nerves.

"What time are you finishing?"

"In about an hour," she said, while Haymitch cut across her and spoke at the same moment. "Right now."

Both Katniss and Peeta stared at the older man. "You heard me, Sweetheart. I think I can handle these last few stragglers. Get out of here. Go on." Katniss goggled at her boss, and he offered her a sly smile and surreptitious wink. "Quickly, before I change my mind."

Her heart was racing as she snatched up her coat, hat and scarf, and pulled her gloves from her coat pocket.

"So," Peeta began, looking around for inspiration. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

"Peeta, it's gone ten o'clock at night. Most places are going to be closing."

"Oh."

"I was thinking of maybe just heading home, to be honest."

"Oh."

"But it's pretty late. And dark. And although I do this journey every day, and I'd like to iterate that I don't need an escort, some company would be nice."

A wide smile spread across his face at her words, and in a second, he had pulled his coat on, and wrapped himself in his hat and scarf against the cold.

Outside the pub, the wind hit them both like a sledgehammer. "Lead the way," he called above the howling gales.

Hands thrust firmly into her pockets, she braced herself against the gusts that whipped the settled snowflakes back up into the air. She began to trudge the familiar path through the wet snow back to her home. It was a twenty minute walk in good weather, so would probably take at least half an hour battling through the treacherous conditions.

"You know, I'm letting you walk me home, and I don't really know the first thing about you," she said.

"Don't worry. I'm not a psycho or anything."

"That's probably just what you'd say if you were a psycho," she snorted.

"True," he reasoned. "I guess you'll just have to trust me. Or you could ask me anything, and I promise I'll be honest."

"Ok," she said, bracing herself as a huge gust of wind blew in off the Thames, showering their faces with icy droplets of water. "A surname would probably be a good start. I'm Katniss Everdeen. You?"

"Everdeen? I like that. Like 'evergreen.' It reminds me of trees and forests." Katniss couldn't help but smile as he made the comparison; having grown up near the New Forest, she felt most at home surrounded by nature. "I'm Peeta Mellark."

"Isn't that the word Gandalf uses to get into the gates at Moria? Doesn't it mean 'friend' or something? You're pulling my leg."

"No," he laughed, "you're thinking of Mell-on. But nearly."

"Ok, then. Mell-ark. Where's that from?"

"My great-grandparents emigrated over here from Hungary. I'd love to go visit Budapest sometime, learn a bit more about my heritage."

"So you've not been yet, then?"

"No. I'm terribly sorry to say that the furthest afield I've been is a day trip to Calais."

"Calais hardly counts as abroad, though. I doubt most French people would class Calais as France."

"I know. Shocking, right? It's not through not wanting to go anywhere, though. Lack of opportunities, no one to go with…. I mean, I could have gone on holiday to Tenerife with my brother's family last year, but it was pretty obvious they only wanted me there as a baby sitter. And on top of that… I don't really like the idea of being on a plane."

"Not a good flyer?"

"Not good with any kind of heights. I like to feel my feet firmly on the ground."

She turned to look at his profile just as they passed under a street light. The snow falling around him was illuminated, and she could see several flakes settling on the ends of his long eyelashes. For a long moment, she had the urge to reach out and brush the snowflakes away, but she contented herself with merely watching him instead.

The wind picked up as they walked together, and Katniss found herself naturally gravitating closer towards Peeta, towards the natural protection from the bitter weather that his body offered. "So," she asked him, walking as close as possible to him without actually touching, "would you rather have to deal with weather like this, or get on a plane and fly somewhere warm?"

"Definitely deal with this," he replied with a slight chuckle. "I actually prefer the cooler weather."

"Really?" asked Katniss.

"Absolutely. It's far easier to put on an extra layer and warm up in winter than it is to cool down if you're already half-naked in summer."

She suddenly remembered the incredible heat of his handshake and was overcome with the need to be even closer to him. Just as those thoughts were running through her mind, she heard his surprised utterance of, "Woah!" and looked up just in time to see him stumble and recover his footing.

"You ok?" she laughed, holding her arm out to him for support.

"Yeah. Watch out. It's pretty icy down here." She held him steady for a moment as he straightened up, before he started laughing along with her. "I guess I'm not that great at keeping my feet on the ground either."

It was the perfect excuse to hook her arm through his and walk closer to him, sharing his body heat. She was so incredibly content, walking arm in arm by his side, that she felt disappointment well up inside her once they reached her flat. Snow was collecting in the frames of the dark windows, and the idea of being alone sent shivers over her skin.

"Well," she said at last. "Here it is."

Peeta nodded and looked up at her front door, and once again Katniss was distracted by the snowflakes that had settled on his eyelashes. "It's been— "

"Do you want to come inside?" she interrupted him. "Warm yourself up for five minutes?"

Those eyes of his seemed to penetrate through her, and for a moment she felt almost naked under his gaze. "Sure," he said finally, "if that's ok."

She fumbled with her keys for a moment, and prayed that her flat was in a reasonably presentable state, unable to remember if she had bothered doing the washing up from her dinner earlier. However, on entering her flat, whether or not the kitchen was in a tidy state was the furthest thing from her mind. Her boiler was clearly on the blink again, and both hers and Peeta's breath was visible as a misty vapour with every exhalation. "I'm so sorry," she said. "You're not going to get warm in here. Bloody central heating's always breaking." She shook and shivered from the cold, and in an instant Peeta was by her side, taking her hands in his own. Warmth flooded through her at his touch, as if a small fire was burning inside him. He brought her hands up to his lips, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss them, and had to hide her disappointment when he gently blew on them, warming them further. "Thank you," she said quietly, gazing into the depths of his eyes. The two of them remained perfectly still for a moment, before Peeta slowly lowered her hands. An air of awkwardness came between them before Katniss broke the tension. "Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?" she asked him, as she walked away and into her kitchen.

"What are you having?"

"Definitely something stronger. Rum and Coke."

"Sounds perfect," he replied, following her through to the kitchen and leaning against the door frame.

"I didn't want you seeing this mess," she said, trying to hide the plates stacked in the sink from his view. As quickly as she could, she poured the two drinks and was about to hand one to him when something took her breath away. Unbeknownst to him, Peeta was stood directly underneath a sprig of mistletoe. She had no idea why she always included mistletoe in her Christmas decorations, except for reasons of tradition. But she never really had the chance to use it in the traditional manner. 'Well,' she thought. 'Now's my chance.'

She stepped as close to him as possible, handed him the tumbler of rum and Coke and gently clinked her glass against his. "Cheers," she said, talking a small sip of the dark, sweet liquid.

"Cheers," he responded, doing the same, and Katniss was very pleased to note that despite her closeness, he made no attempt to back away from her.

At that moment, she looked directly up, a small smile crossing her face, and she could see in her peripheral vision that Peeta looked up towards the ceiling too. His gaze, wide-eyed, like a rabbit caught in headlights, dropped back to hers, and he licked his lips very slightly, before he began to speak. "Kat—" he began very quietly, but before he could continue, Katniss brought her free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in towards her.

At first he was hesitant, his lips barely moving in response to hers, but with her encouragement, he soon began to warm to her. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip and could taste the rum and Coke she had made him. His free arm held her tighter, and all the while she marvelled at the innate heat of his body, and at how, for the first time all winter, she wasn't noticing the cold.

Katniss pulled away from him for a moment and downed the remainder of her drink, leaving the glass tumbler on her kitchen work surface, and Peeta did the same. She grasped hold of the front of his shirt and pressed her lips firmly into his, slowly manoeuvring him backwards until they stood together in her bedroom. The look on Peeta's face was indicative of sheer disbelief at his luck. His breathing was shallow, but Katniss didn't give him a moment's respite. She claimed his lips over and over, but it wasn't enough. She needed so much more from him.

Looking up into his clear, blue eyes she said, "I should warn you, my bed's going to be like ice."

"Not for long," he said, and he ducked his head down to place gentle kisses along her neckline. Every single time his lips touched her skin, it left a spot that radiated tingling heat. Sigh after sigh escaped her at his touch, and yet it still wasn't enough. She slid her hands underneath his shirt, and he gasped at her icy cold touch.

"Sorry," she said, withdrawing her hands straight away.

"No, don't be," he replied. "Just took me by surprise, that's all. I'm ready now."

Katniss couldn't help but laugh a little. His face was set, his eyes tight shut, as he prepared himself for the feel of her frozen hands against his body. She pulled his shirt up a little and placed her hands over his taut abdomen, causing him to shudder slightly. "Oh shit," he gasped out, and she began to pull away again. "No, no," he protested. "It's ok. Just. Really fucking cold."

After a few deep breaths, he seemed to get used to the feel of her on him. His eyes reopened, and his pupils were dilated and heavy with desire. A rush of warmth began to pool between her legs at the hungry way he stared at her. His hands took hold of the bottom of her jumper, and his eyes darted up to meet hers. "May I?" he asked her.

There was no real need to ask, she thought, but the fact he had brought a wide grin to her face, and she nodded, withdrawing her hands from the comforting heat of his body. In one move, he pulled both her jumper and top up and over her head, and she stood in front of him in just her jeans and bra. Goose bumps immediately rose all over her body, and she clutched at herself, before Peeta similarly pulled his own clothes over his head and enveloped her in his arms.

She could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he held her, although he was standing awkwardly, his arse sticking out as if he were embarrassed about pressing his erection into her. Sliding her hands into the back pocket of his jeans, she roughly pulled his hips forward, and he groaned at the sudden contact. "Katniss…" he whispered as her hand slid down between them and massaged the bulge.

A sudden panic struck her as his hips pushed further into her hand. "Peeta, do you have a condom?"

His eyes widened as he pulled away from her. "I… I don't know," he answered her, and Katniss experienced a bitter, sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. "I wasn't expecting anything like this to happen. I mean… this kind of thing…. It just doesn't happen to me. Just a minute." He darted out of her room and returned a moment later carrying his wallet, which he opened and began to rifle through. He sat down on the edge of her bed as he poked his fingers deep into a recess of the wallet, and Katniss felt her heart skip a beat as his eyes lit up. Holding the foil packet up to examine it, he exclaimed, "Thank fuck for that!"

"Thank fuck for what?"

"It's in date. Just about. It's been quite a long time, and I wasn't sure it'd still be in date, but… we're good."

Relief mingled with desire in equal amounts, and she immediately straddled his lap, running her hands across the expanse of his broad shoulders as she claimed his lips with her own. Her hips undulated rhythmically over him as he raised his own up to meet her. His large hands held on to her waist, drawing small circles with his thumbs over her skin.

While his gentle touch felt nice enough, it lacked the passion that she desperately wanted from him. She broke away from his kiss, both of them panting breathlessly, causing a small cloud of fog to hang in the air between them. Keeping eye contact, she reached behind her own back and flicked the clasp of her bra open, and she dropped the item to the floor. With a satisfied smirk, she took in Peeta's further disbelief and stood up in front of him, quickly kicking her shoes off and pulling her jeans and underwear off in a single motion.

"Oh, shit…." Peeta whispered as his eyes roamed over every inch of her naked flesh. "You're… utterly perfect."

She dropped to her knees in front of him and undid the button fly of his jeans as quickly as she could, ignoring the goose bumps that were raised over her exposed skin, and feeling a swooping sensation deep in her belly at the way Peeta was staring, mesmerised, at her hardened nipples. As he reached out to cup one of her breasts, her eyes fluttered closed, and there was nothing she could do but groan deep in her throat as he gently stroked his thumb over the peaked flesh. "Oh, fuck, that feels good," she whined. The desire to see him naked was entirely overwhelming, and she looked him in the eyes. "Lift your hips for me," she instructed.

He did as she asked, and in one swift movement, she freed him from the constraints of his clothing. "Jesus…." she goggled at him, as his erection sprang free from his boxer briefs.

"Is everything ok?"

'Ok' was something of an understatement. He had described her as perfect just moments before, and she had ignored his exaggeration, but… he was perfect. There was no other way to describe him. Unthinkingly, her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and she could tell he was suppressing yet another shudder; whether from the cold of her hands or simply from the sudden touch she couldn't tell. "Does this answer your question?" she asked him. His hands were fisting into her duvet, and she could see him biting down on his bottom lip as he nodded in response. She ran her fingers over his hard length, drawing her thumb over the head several times and causing Peeta to create several guttural noises deep in the back of his throat.

"Can we lie down together?" he choked out, placing his large hand over her smaller one, and stopping her ministrations.

She answered him by placing her hands on his thighs, using him as leverage to stand up, and crushing her lips into his. Climbing on to the bed, she reached her hand out towards him and he immediately stretched out beside her.

She couldn't help but shake at how cold her duvet felt against her skin and marvelled at how Peeta was coping with it. As soon as he was lying beside her, she shifted her body flush into his, absorbing as much of his innate heat as she could. Their lips met once again, and Katniss was pleased that Peeta seemed to be taking the lead at last. His tongue pressed into hers, and the satisfied growls he made deep in the back of his throat sent a rush of heat directly to her centre.

With a little effort, she managed to slide an arm under his body, then rolled on to her back, encouraging him to lie on top of her. His warm weight was a relief against the icy cold air in her room, and she held his head steady as he deepened their kiss. Finally, he broke away from her as he looked down into her eyes, and was breathless as he spoke. "You are absolutely gorgeous."

"Thank you," she said.

"I mean it. I can't believe my luck."

"Me too," she smiled, running her hands through his soft, golden locks, before pulling him back down to kiss her once more. Already she was noticing the freezing cold of her room less, as she lost herself entirely in his embrace. Tension was coiling between her legs, and she rolled her hips underneath him, desperate for his help to release that mounting pressure. "Touch me," she whispered into him.

He lifted his head away from her, and a small smile played about his lips. He rolled to one side of her and leant on his elbow, and the rush of heat between her legs increased when she saw the way Peeta was looking at her. His eyes travelled hungrily up and down her body. He trailed a finger down the side of her face and over her lips, and she quickly opened her mouth, sucking briefly on his fingers, before he continued to trail a path down her neck and over her sternum, pausing at the dip between her breasts.

Flattening his palm over her, he gently began to squeeze the soft, sensitive mound of flesh, and spasms of pleasure ran over her entire body at his touch. The look of hunger in his eyes intensified, sending an anticipatory jolt between her legs. He shifted his position beside her, so that while he continued to gently knead one breast with his hand, he was able to draw her other one into his mouth. Katniss arched her back at the sudden sensations: the wet of his tongue and the heat of his breath, as his teeth gently grazed along her nipple. "Peeta..." she whispered, gripping hold of the hair at the back of his head, as his tongue flicked over the hardened peak.

Her breath hitched in her throat as his hand dipped lower, gently pushing her thighs apart. He turned his head, releasing her nipple from his mouth so that he could watch what he was doing, and ran two fingers along her slick flesh. "Oh, God, Katniss…you're so fucking wet…"

She raised her hips up, so that his fingers landed exactly where she needed them to be, and an almost painful thrum of pleasure ran through her. The pads of his fingers circled her deftly; clearly he was as much of an artist in bed as he was out of it, and it wasn't long at all before she began to feel the pressure inside her mounting unbearably. Thrusting her hips upwards over and over again, she flooded with sudden warmth as the pleasure reached its peak. Every nerve in her body was on fire as Peeta's fingers continued to work over her. Eventually she was forced to push his hand away from her too-sensitive flesh, as she tried to come back down to earth.

"Shit, you look so fuckable when you're coming," he breathed. "I want you so much."

Before she was able to catch her breath, she felt a shift in weight on top of her, and Peeta was claiming her mouth with kiss after kiss. Her hands wound themselves into his hair, and with each kiss, a small, pleasured groaning sound rumbled deep within his throat. Even though she could have happily stayed that way forever, she needed to feel him moving inside her, and she pulled away from his mouth, reaching out and capturing his earlobe between her lips. For a moment she sucked and nibbled at the soft flesh, before whispering to him, "I want you, too."

Eyes widened, he gazed down at her and silently asked the question: 'Are you ready?' She smiled and nodded, and in a split second, he had sat back on his haunches. Reaching for the condom, he kept half an eye on her, the look of disbelief still on his face as he gently tore the foil open and removed the prophylactic before rolling it down over his length.

As soon as he was ready, she pulled on his shoulders and lay down on her back, pulling him into position over her. She could feel the tip of his cock, quivering over her entrance, and bit down hard on her lip as she placed her hands on his backside and pulled him deep into her.

She gasped out loud at the sudden feeling of fullness and held tight on to him as her body began to acclimatise to him. "Are you ok?" he asked her.

"Yes," she whispered, rolling her hips upwards, encouraging him to move inside her. "More than ok."

That shy smile appeared once again, and he dipped his head down and kissed along her forehead, down the lines of her neck, under her chin, before returning his attention to her lips.

One hand trailed down the side of her body, and she felt pleasure coiling deep within her belly at his touch. His fingers ran over the side of her left thigh, gently squeezing the flesh, and in response she wrapped her leg around his body, drawing him even closer within her.

"Jesus, Katniss, you feel incredible," he choked out as he thrust into her, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. She gripped him ever closer, tightening her pelvic floor around him, causing him to whimper slightly with each movement.

It still wasn't enough for her. She needed more control. Wrapping her arms around him, she rolled over, forcing him on to his back. Together they lay perfectly still for a moment, Peeta looking up into her steely grey eyes, before she sat up over him, dragging her fingers slowly over his chest. As he reached out and tentatively cupped her breasts, she began to rock her hips over him, throwing her head back as he gently squeezed and kneaded the soft mounds of flesh.

She kept one hand on his chest, using him as leverage to raise herself up and down, while her other hand sought out her own clit. As she circled over the sensitive spot, his name fell from her lips, and as her eyes drifted closed, she became aware of his fingers pushing hers away, replacing her touch. The feel of the pad of his thumb against her clit as she rocked her hips over him caused her breath to quicken.

"You're perfect," she heard him whisper. His words sent a jolt of electricity direct to her core, and she opened her eyes once again. She took in the sight of him, his lips slightly parted, the look of wonder and disbelief still apparent in every line of his face, and the coil inside her tightened. She rolled her hips harder and faster, and all at once the pressure inside her reached its peak. She froze in her movements as an almost painful heat spread from her core to her extremities, wave after wave of intense pleasure that caused her to collapse forward against Peeta's body.

He gripped her hips tighter. "Please don't stop," he begged her, thrusting upwards, clearly desperate for his own release.

She couldn't deny him, and despite the increased sensitivity of her own body, she forced herself to keep moving over him, until his eyes fell closed, and he called her name as his back arched off her bed.

Slowly she climbed off of him and rested her head against his shoulder. "That was…." he began, drifting off into silence.

"Yeah," she agreed, running her fingers over the heat of his taut abdomen.

"I should, um, probably get cleaned up," he said, sitting up and dislodging her from his shoulder. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Straight down the end of the hall."

He nodded, and Katniss could see the embarrassment on his features, although why he was embarrassed was a mystery to her. As he left her alone, she turned on a bedside lamp, and she flicked off the overhead main light before she climbed under the duvet covers, swearing as usual at how icy cold her bed felt.

A few minutes later, Peeta reappeared. "Should I….. That is, to say…. Erm…." Clearly he had no idea how to finish the sentence, and began to pick his discarded clothes up from the floor.

"What are you doing?" Katniss asked, sitting up in bed.

"Well….should I leave?"

"Why on earth would you want to do that?" she asked him, incredulous and a little hurt.

"I don't want to," he answered her. "I just… I didn't know if you'd want me to stay."

She pulled back the duvet covers and rolled her eyes. "Of course I want you to stay," she answered him. "I'm not throwing you out on the streets after that. I'm not that callous."

His eyes widened in panic as he spoke. "I didn't mean to suggest that you were. I just…. I've never really understood the protocol for things like this."

Raising a hand to her face to cover the giggles, she couldn't help but melt at his awkward demeanour. "Come on," she said at last. "Get in bed with me. But I warn you, it's not pleasant in here."

He nodded and climbed in beside her as she turned off the bedside light. For a moment, all that she could hear was the sound of their heartbeats, pounding together in the darkness, as she held tight to his body. She was almost unaware of the icy feel of her bed covers over them; he was far more effective than her usual hot water bottle. Outside her bedroom, the wind picked up, howling down the terraced street and rattling her window panes, but for once the wintery weather wasn't bothering her.

"Now what?" he spoke into the darkness.

"What do you mean?" she asked him.

"Well… I'm not sure what this means."

"What 'what' means?"

"You aren't going to make this easy for me, are you, Katniss?" he chuckled.

A small frown creased her brow; she genuinely had no idea what he was talking about, and told him as much.

"Well, I really like you."

"I like you, too," she replied.

"And… I said as much earlier, but…. I don't usually do….this."

"Ok…."

"So….. now what? Will I see you again?"

She couldn't help but smile at how nervous he sounded. And now that her fantasies of the past few weeks had come true, she wasn't about to give him up. "Definitely."

Underneath her, she felt suddenly felt him relax further into her bed; he had been holding a lot of tension while worrying.

"So… what does that make us?"

She thought about it for a moment, unsure of how to answer. A single evening of passion hardly made them a couple. But that was precisely what she wanted. And from the sound of it, that was what he wanted too.

"I'd say we're two people who like each other," she began slowly and carefully. "Two people who really like each other. Two people who enjoy each other's company. Who, given time, could maybe make a go of things."

She felt even more tension drain from him. "I could live with that," he said, his arms wrapping around her even tighter. The warmth and stillness in her room seemed strangely at odds with the howling gales outside, but for once, she refused to let the inclement weather bother her. With a satisfied sigh, she closed her eyes and drifted off to a peaceful and contented sleep.


End file.
